Ketchup
by Karu Leonnese
Summary: In which Snake and Otacon discover ketchup can save your life, and your mood.


Ketchup

By Karu Leonnese

Notes: Eh, first try in this fandom. Let's hope everything's not horribly done? Their charas are really hard to get into, y'know?

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There was a time and a place for everything. And the middle of a secret-op mission was neither the time nor place for waxing philosophic, whether you're the infiltrator or the Intel. Which was why Otacon tended to go into deep reveries when there was no mission to demand his attention.

Snake had noticed his roommate's mood—or lack thereof—for a couple of days before he thought to register it as a problem. Otacon was prone to being outright depressed one day and then back to normal by the next morning. That's just the type of person he was. But it had persisted two, three days, and he was starting to wonder. At first he thought he should let the engineer be. Not that he didn't care for Otacon's well-being, but he knew from experience that sometimes you just have to get over a problem by yourself.

After the fifth day of watching his friend drag himself through the apartment listlessly, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Grabbing his keys and Otacon's collar, he started out the door. "C'mon."

Otacon almost tripped as he was dragged unceremoniously out of the apartment. "What? Where are we going?"

"It's time for some intervention," he replied simply, not really answering the question at all. Otacon, sensing he wouldn't receive one even if he asked again, resigned himself to following the taller man.

Intervention, as it turned out, came in the form of the small park a few blocks away. Still confused but now being led by his jacket sleeve (it's a lot easier to walk when you're not being strung along by the collar), Otacon frowned at Snake, who seemed to be preoccupied with finding something.

Snake made an affirmative noise, apparently finding what he was searching for. Grabbing Otacon by the shoulders, he sat him down on a park bench. "I'll be right back."

He left before any protest could be made. Otacon leaned back against the bench, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. What exactly was the point to all this? Dragging him out to a park without warning and then leaving him on a bench like a child in time out? He could've sat by himself at home. Deciding this whole thing wasn't worth the energy, he moved to get up.

"I thought I told you to stay put…"

"Actually you said 'I'll be right back'. You didn't say anything about me staying here."

He looked vaguely amused. "Smart ass."

Pushing his glasses up, he sighed. "Is there a point here? Because I think I missed it if there is, and—"

Snake held something out for him, stopping whatever he might've had to say. A red plastic squeeze bottle. "Picked it up from the hot dog vendor."

"K-ketchup?"

He shrugged. "I figured I'd do some deep meaningful symbolic thing. Or you could just pick up on it and save me the trouble. I'm not really good with metaphors."

Otacon found himself smiling despite his earlier annoyance. "I seem to recall you being quite good at heartfelt speeches actually."

He looked away, a bit embarrassed. "Yeah well…I don't make it a habit, okay?"

"So, is all this about…" he shook his head, not finding the right words to describe his previous mood.

"Yep. Like I said, it's intervention," he smirked. "But we're not done yet."

Otacon flipped some stray hair out of his eyes; a lesson in redundancy if there was one. "What are you talking about?"

Snake had to laugh at the face he was making, that confused pouty look he had going. "You look like a five year-old. Just c'mon."

He pulled Otacon up from the bench, taking the ketchup bottle from him.

"A five year-old?" he replied with only mocking indignance.

Snake grinned. "Yeah, don't worry though. It looks cute on you."

"Hey!"

He led the engineer to a remote part of the part, a small wooded area. "Okay, we're gonna go through a little training session," he tosses the bottle to him, and he caught it after only a few fumbles.

"Training with…ketchup?"

"Eh, petty semantics. I don't happen to have any water guns or anything, and I doubt the neighborhood society would appreciate a couple of M9s."

"M9s? Are you telling me that given the opportunity, you'd shoot me with one of those?"

"Honestly, not sure," he replied.

"That's reassuring."

"But anyway, we've already proven the usefulness of a handy bottle of ketchup."

Otacon looked at him. "You insane, do you know that?"

Another grin. "Yeah, I'm starting to pick up on that. Oh, and you'll probably want to leave the jacket behind. I know it's kinda like, your trademark or something, and I don't want it to get messed up when I pown you."

Otacon suppressed a laugh. "Did you just say pown?"

"You heard me." To emphasize his point, he pulled out another ketchup bottle—where was he keeping that?—and squeezed it just enough to project a small blob of red on Otacon's jean leg.

The younger man stared at him in disbelief. "You just—"

But Snake had already run off, into the small collection of trees that passed as a forest in the city. Siding out of his jacket, he took off after him.

Ducking behind a tree, he considered his options. He could go find Snake, and most assuredly get 'killed' in the process. Or he could wait him out. After all, Snake had no idea whether he had even followed or not. But on the other hand, he'd seen Snake wait an eternity for the perfect moment.

He heard a crunch of leaves to his right. Did he think he was completely clueless? He sprayed red condiment to his left.

"Damn!"

Otacon grinned. "I learned a few things from watching you, you know."

He couldn't see him, but he could hear the smirk in his voice. "So you're watching me, huh?"

"Sure, when there's nothing better to look at," he teased nonchalantly, taking off deeper into the words.

"Basic training is over. Moving on to advanced techniques!" he called after his retreating friend before following.

Otacon decided the best method to surviving these advanced techniques was stealth. He launched himself at a tree branch, struggling rather unsuccessfully to climb it. He heard snickering.

He immediately abandoned the idea. "Who's watching who now?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Turning to head even deeper into the trees, he was shocked as a pair of arms grabbed him and held him hostage-style. Something was jammed against his back.

He couldn't help himself. "I really hope that's the ketchup bottle…"

Snake leaned closer. "Sorry, smart ass hostages get shot."

"Don't you dare—"

Too late. He felt something cold and slimy all over his back.

"Game over."

Otacon brought his bottle up, sending ketchup in Snake's face. "You forgot about my dying shot."

He wiped his face off with a hand, flicking it at Otacon. "Cheat."

He stuck his tongue out. "All's fair in love and war. I figure you'd know that better than anyone."

"Touche."

Otacon lay down in the grass, half to catch his breath and half to try and get some of the ketchup off him. His shirt was ruined, he knew that much.

Snake sat down beside him. "You're getting better."

He wrinkled up his nose. "But I'm covered in ketchup."

"Yeah," Snake countered, "but at least you're smiling now."

He looked down sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

He shrugged. "Just remember you're not in it alone, okay?"

Otacon nodded. "Intervention, huh?"

"Hell of a lot more fun than a metaphor speech."

"So…speaking of interventions, how about we have a talk about your little habit?"

"Don't even start."

He noticed a speck of ketchup on Otacon's face from his 'dying shot'. Leaning down, he used it as an excuse to press his lips to the engineer's.

Face turning bright red, Otacon started laughing. "That's such a cliché."

Snake offered him a lopsided smirk. "You complaining or something?"

Otacon, on impulse, grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling his friend down to him.

"Now why would I do something like that?"

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Dude, we seriously have ketchup fights at work. I was just lazy so I skipped the metaphor thing for some fun. Tell meh what you think, kay?


End file.
